"Is This It?": Part 2 — You Are Not Your Instrument
- Michael Sundell
- Jun 1
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 2
“When we define our worth by how well we perform, we become fragile. When we root our worth in who we are, we become free.”
The Collapse of Identity
For many of us, the phrase “I’m a musician” wasn’t just a job description — it was a truth.
We were told from a young age that this was who we were.
That identity brought belonging, direction, even a sense of purpose.
But what happens when your playing suffers? When your joy fades? When your goals shift?
If your identity is fused with your role, any decline in performance — or any change in direction — can feel like an existential threat.
Not just to your career, but to your very self.
This is the hidden cost of over-identification: when the role falters, the self feels like it disappears.
Somatic Practice: Where Do You Live in the Music?
Settle into a quiet space. Let your awareness settle into your body. Gently explore:
Where in my body do I feel most connected to my role as a musician?
(Is it in your hands? Your spine? Your chest?)
Now imagine not performing. What sensations arise?
(Is there tightness, numbness, collapse? A part that recoils, or goes quiet?)
What part of me might be carrying the weight of this identity?
This isn’t about fixing or analyzing — it’s about listening.
Often, the body holds a part of you that learned long ago: “This is who I have to be to matter.”
Let that part be felt — and gently met with curiosity.
Reframe: From Role to Relationship
Being a musician is a role, not a definition of your worth. It’s one of many ways your inner life expresses itself.
Your self-worth isn’t earned through flawless performance.
It doesn’t depend on applause, titles, or recognition.
It’s intrinsic. Already present. Already enough.
When your identity becomes more spacious than your role, you create room — for growth, reinvention, and healing.
Resilience comes not from clinging tighter, but from loosening gently and lovingly.
Reflective Inquiry (Parts-Based Prompt)
If I could no longer perform tomorrow, who would I still be?
Which part of me fears losing its place? Which part already knows I’m enough?
Try writing this as a dialogue between your Performing Self and your Essential Self.
Let each voice speak honestly.
Which part is still striving to earn love?
Which part already knows you're whole?
Emotional Truth
There may be grief here.
Grief for the younger part of you who believed that mastery would bring safety, love, or certainty.
Grief for the years spent chasing value through excellence and approval.
Let that part speak. Let it be seen — not judged, not bypassed.
Grief is not a detour. It’s part of the path.
Permission
You are allowed to be more than your role.
You are allowed to rest, evolve, even walk away — and still be worthy of love and belonging.
You are not your instrument.
You are the breath behind it.
The soul that moves through it.
The one who listens — even in silence.
Want to go deeper?
This work doesn’t have to stay on the page.
If you’re a musician navigating burnout, identity shifts, or creative uncertainty, I offer 1:1 coaching designed to support you from the inside out.
My approach is rooted in presence, trust, and curiosity — not analysis or judgement.
Together, we create space to reconnect with what’s true, alive, and still unfolding in you.
Stay connected.
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